


The More They Stay the Same

by messageredacted



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messageredacted/pseuds/messageredacted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinkmeme Prompt: <i>Specifically, I'm desperate for some H/W (or is it S/J now?) that shows just how goddamn impossible Sherlock is. He's just as annoying, screwed up, intense and unaffectionate in a relationship. Not dark!fic or anything just. Yeah.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The More They Stay the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on 17 August 2010.

**i. Sherlock doesn’t apologize**

John doesn’t know why he thought things would be different when his relationship with Sherlock went from “friends” to “lovers” (or maybe just “friends with benefits” or “colleagues who get each other off once in a while” or whatever sort of label there could possibly be for this…thing they have). Perhaps he thought that Sherlock would be friendlier to him, or spend less time insulting his intelligence, or apologize once in a while, god forbid.

But then, John’s always been good at deluding himself.

They have an argument a couple months in. Well, honestly they have arguments just about daily, but this one culminates in John storming out of the flat. He can’t take refuge at Sarah’s anymore, so instead he just walks for an hour, trying to cool down. He turns his phone on silent because he doesn’t want to hear it if Sherlock texts him.

When he feels more level-headed, he thinks about taking a cab back, but instead wanders for a while longer and then gets something to eat.

The sky is getting dark when he steps back outside. He takes a deep breath and takes his phone out of his pocket. There is one message.

 _Pick up some milk.  
SH_

He closes his eyes briefly, then slides the phone back into his pocket.

 **ii. Sherlock doesn't answer his phone**

When John gets back to the flat with the milk, Sherlock is gone. John waits for a while, then phones Lestrade, but Lestrade says there is no case at the moment and he doesn’t know where Sherlock is. John makes himself wait another half hour before texting Sherlock.

 _Where are you?  
John_

Perhaps it’s a punishment for leaving. John grits his teeth and tries not to think of the darker explanations. Sherlock has more than proven that he has no sense of self preservation, but surely they don’t have any enemies active at the moment.

 _Answer me.  
John_

John tries to distract himself with the television for a while, but then he just gets up and paces. He’ll kill the man when he gets back. If he gets back.

Finally he calls Sherlock’s phone and listens to it ring. It goes to voicemail after six rings. John debates leaving a message but knows Sherlock won’t listen to it. He hangs up again.

At ten, he hears the front door. Sherlock appears at the top of the stairs, shrugging off his coat.

“Where have you been?” John asks, shutting off the television and getting to his feet.

Sherlock glances at him, looking faintly surprised at John’s vehemence. “A woman wanted to hire me for a case,” he said. “I agreed to talk to her.”

“I called.”

“Yes.” Sherlock disappears into the kitchen. John follows him.

“You didn’t answer.”

Sherlock glances over his shoulder at him, looking faintly puzzled. “Was it important?”

 **iii. Sherlock doesn’t touch him**

They don’t sleep together. Sex, yes, but even if John falls asleep with Sherlock at his side, he never wakes up to him there. Sherlock doesn’t brush against him when they move around the kitchen in the morning. They don’t sit on the couch together. They don’t kiss unless they’re in bed together, and even then it’s not something Sherlock will initiate.

It’s two days after their argument and Sherlock is in the middle of a case. He’s got vials of human blood and cleaning solvents all over the kitchen table and is hard at work trying to figure out which chemicals will make human blood in various stages of decomposition react in which particular way. He’s been at it for twelve hours now and shows absolutely no sign of stopping.

John has been going through papers in the living room, but now his eyes are blurry and his neck aches. He gets up and wanders into the kitchen to watch Sherlock peer through his microscope at a sample of blood.

“You’re distracting me,” Sherlock murmurs after a moment of silence, lifting his head.

“Am I thinking too loud for you?”

Sherlock turns his head and John kisses him, leaning down and cupping his chin. Sherlock returns the kiss but he keeps his eyes open, always observing.

When John draws back, Sherlock sits back in his chair and stretches.

“Come take a break,” John says.

Sherlock rolls his shoulders in his sockets and then leans forward again. “Could you shut the door when you leave?”

 **iv. Sherlock is condescending**

“Oh,” Sherlock says, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, oh yes. Yes, yes.”

It’s always fascinating to see the epiphany hit Sherlock, animating his entire body. Sherlock spins from the body, nearly giddy.

“It’s so obvious. Don’t you see?” Sherlock asks him, his eyes sparkling. “Don’t you see it, John?”

John shakes his head mutely. Lestrade looks equally confused, standing on the other side of the body.

“Tell me, John. Tell me what you see.” Sherlock paces back to the far wall and then comes back, his eyes fixed on John.

John clears his throat. “He was stabbed, just like the other one.” He looks down at the body. “Hesitation marks, so the killer isn’t a professional.” He frowns. “The wounds are shallow, so the killer doesn’t have much…upper body strength…” He trails off as Sherlock throws his hands up in the air.

“How can you be so _blind_?” Sherlock exclaims. “All of you, how can you even _function_? I’m surprised you don’t step in front of a car when you’re walking down the street!”

John tightens his shoulders, glaring, but Sherlock doesn’t even seem to notice (or, more likely, doesn’t care). Lestrade sends John a sympathetic glance and John looks away.

 **v. John loves him anyway**

When the case is finished, they order in and watch a movie together. Sherlock takes up the whole couch and John sits in an armchair.

At about midnight, Sherlock sits up and stretches, then gets to his feet. He stands there a moment, looking around the flat. John glances up at him.

“Tired?” John asks.

Sherlock says nothing, just holds out a hand. After a moment, John reaches up and takes it. Sherlock pulls him to his feet. When they kiss, Sherlock still keeps his eyes open, but this time when they part, Sherlock whispers “Not tired yet.”

They make it to John’s bedroom, undressing as they go, and when they fall into bed together, John can’t even remember why he was angry at Sherlock. Yes, the man’s manipulative and unappreciative and not the slightest bit affectionate, but when it comes down to it, _that_ is the man that John fell in love with, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.


End file.
